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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25574857">Why Death was feeding the ducks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eturni/pseuds/Eturni'>Eturni</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crowley's imagination, Death, Discworld Death is Good Omens Death, Gen, Meta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:01:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25574857</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eturni/pseuds/Eturni</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Death turns up at St James' park in the end and it begs the question - Why? The expectation that they'd fail? A threat? A warning?</p>
<p>A short look into how Crowley had come into contact with Death through the years and what him appearing in the park could mean.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley &amp; Death (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Why Death was feeding the ducks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/OAbsalom/gifts">OAbsalom</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthday to my dear OAbsalom. I don't know when you'll see this given times are... interesting, but the right birthday present could of course only be a vaguely meta look into Your Boy's dealings with a character you intend to never meet if you can keep outpacing him.</p>
<p>This was heavily inspired by a conversation in the discord server that begged a little more expanding on.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley had an interesting relationship with Death. For the most part, Crowley was secure in his own eternal essence. When it came to the humans he took interest in he knew that they were temporary but that was in some vague, nebulous way; the same way that his job demanded he gather souls for Hell without really having to think about how they got from “souls who’d done enough evil” to “souls in Hell”.</p>
<p>Occasionally, though, their jobs passed over a little more directly and on those occasions the tone could go either way. In the first few hundred years after Eden they came across each other a little more often. Back then Death attended every death and the lesser entities hadn’t really been signed on to the contract yet. It was also a little bit more straightforward. There was a decent amount of understanding of the first Words, and the knowledge of good and evil which meant that decisions on where a soul would go didn’t need a lot of arbitrating.</p>
<p>It barely took a millennium for things to start getting messy, though for the most part Crawly was only aware of the changes in his own department. He was a busy demon after all; most successful agent on Earth and all that. Not to mention the job was a bit more artisanal and individual back in the day so once he was sure he’d done a good job damning he was on to the next soul.</p>
<p>The first time Crawly became aware of the amazing evils and idiocy of bureaucracy was somewhere around 3500 BCE. He’d done a stellar job influencing a holy man to twist the words of those who had gone before him to his own benefits. Even had the followers starting to lean towards human sacrifices. Properly uncanny how easy it was to push them to turn on their own. He hadn’t even <i>really</i> suggested it himself, not that he’d admit that to his superiors, just kind of made vague comments about more precious sacrifices and he’d hopped, skipped and jumped to his own conclusions. (The original intent had been about having them demand so much tribute that the locals got sick of it and sacked the blessed temple but Crawly was very quickly learning that humans had the imagination to come up with much worse things if he gave them the room.)</p>
<p>Either way Crawly had stayed with the old holy man right through a long illness to make sure he chose the worst possible person for the follow up position, so he happened to still be kicking about when Death himself showed up.</p>
<p>His initial response had been the briefest of salutes as he took a swig of wine from the bedside of the dead man. Death barely paid any attention but he was a busy supernatural entity and Crawly wasn’t exactly all that fussed. At least, not until Death took the bugger and he caught a glimpse of what was 100% definitely Heaven.</p>
<p>Anyone who was watching might have described Crawly’s face as thunderous. As it was there was only Death, and he did not particularly care about the concerns of a single outraged demon.</p>
<p>As Death moved to leave Crawly recklessly reached out to grab the edge of a robe, jaw set in anger. “Wait, everything he’s done and he gets to trip off upstairs? That’s bollocks.”</p>
<p>Death’s voice came, soft but still unmistakably like the sound of a car crumpling against an object spotted only a moment too late. <span class="small">Tʜᴀᴛ ɪs ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇs. Hᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ.</span></p>
<p>There was a beat. Two. Crawly took a breath and did what he does best. He asked questions. “Who gets to decide that? He’s for Hell he is, made sure of it myself. What’s the point in all that graft if none of the choices make a difference?” (That one, admittedly, had Crawly looking Up suspiciously, as though he might have gained Her attention with it.)</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">Tʜᴀᴛ's ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇs ʜᴇ's ɢᴏɪɴɢ. Tʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ's Hᴇʟʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ.</span>
</p>
<p>“Well how long does that take? I put a lot of work into that one and he gets to bloody well skip off thinking he’s in Heaven. It better catch up to him sharpish.”</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">Hᴇʟʟ's ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴀ sᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ. Aɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ Hᴇʟʟ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴs.</span>
</p>
<p>“Yeah but that’s <i>his</i> actual idea of Heaven, isn’t it? There’s supposed to be torture and all that unpleasant stuff, isn’t there? That’s the whole point of letting my lot get a hold of them.”</p>
<p>Death shrugged. <span class="small">I ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ. Iᴛ's sᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ ᴇʟsᴇ's ᴊᴏʙ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ.</span></p>
<p>Crawly snorted a huff. <i>Somebody else’s job.</i> It was always somebody else’s job when someone’s submitting a complaint. Meanwhile there was no way Hell was adapting quickly enough for this load of rot. Could be another few millennia before they figured it out and started catching them. More, given Dagon’s new filing system.</p>
<p>Crawly’s anger started to ebb as his thoughts took on the sharp edge of imagination in a demonic mind. Could take millennia for them to get sorted out. No real clear version of what someone saw when they got to the other side. “Well what about the people who don’t have anything they expect?”</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">Tʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴇɴᴅs ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋʏ. Wᴀsᴛᴇs ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪᴛ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. Pᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ sᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇssᴜʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs, ᴀs ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟɪᴠᴇ.</span>
</p>
<p>Crawly considered this very carefully for a long moment. “Sounds like a bit of a pain in the neck for you.” </p>
<p>Death inclined his head with the slightest sense of acquiescing the point.</p>
<p>“Alright, challenge accepted. Drink?”</p>
<p><span class="small">Nᴏᴛ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ I'ᴍ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏᴄᴋ</span> He declined, failing to acknowledge that there was no clock for Death who existed in a kind of space between time and tended to ignore the parts of linear reality that he didn’t care for anyway.</p>
<p>“Some other time then.” Crawly grinned, gears in his mind already turning with his next plan.</p>
<p>If humans could believe just about <i>anything</i> about the afterlife and get there regardless, it would be more than worth it to get some ideas going early.</p>
<p>That was how Crowley started the work of encouraging some truly bizarre ideas about the hereafter. He made sure some pencil pushers in Heaven and Hell would have headaches for centuries trying to work out what they were seeing when they finally got around to sorting people out of their own personal ideas of the afterlife and into whatever boring checkbox ideas they’d come up with.</p>
<p>Of course, he also spent a fair amount of time offering up ideas to his own personal favourite people.</p>
<p>There was a little old lady who first introduced him to mead despite the fact that his eyes were technically supposed to be a bad omen at the time. She ended up with some very nice ideas about how many of the young ladies she’d known would be there when her soul came back into its prime.</p>
<p>He’d always had a soft spot for Leonardo da Vinci who, after agreeing to a very risky set of paired portraits for him and Aziraphale, ended up with one of Crowley’s own personal favourite ideas of Heaven. It was mostly just he and the other greats of his time forever attempting to one up each other and getting involved in ever escalating drama. Crowley thought to himself that Aziraphale would likely enjoy the idea too.</p>
<p>Then there were those who thought their evils lined up with the will of some higher power. Crowley tended to take a great deal of joy in whispering to them in their final hours; of getting into their heads and listing their sins and ensuring that they knew <i>exactly</i> where they should be when they passed. The level of vicious job satisfaction he got from that could really be the highlight of a week.</p>
<p>There were simpler times, too. Agnostics and atheists that he’d have a quick chat at the bar with about hypotheticals. What might be there if any of it was true. Thought exercise, and all that.</p>
<p>Got to the point where, if a skull even could smile, Crowley thought he might occasionally see the flash of one on the odd occasion that Death himself turned up personally to one of Crowley’s big jobs.</p>
<p>Of course, all of that seemed to go in the pan the second they showed up messing with the <i>Great Plan maybe not Ineffable Plan</i> at Armageddon. For all there’d seemed to be a bit of mutual respect between them before that, Death had seemed pretty pissed to not get his way when he squared off against the little Antichrist.</p>
<p>Then again, Crowley couldn’t help but wonder if part of it was peer pressure and showing off, if he was honest. After all, he’d turned up on a bike same as the rest of the horsepeople instead of good old reliable Binky. It had all seemed a bit <i>much</i>, really.</p>
<p>In the end he didn’t get much time to think about it before the next time he was faced with Death.</p>
<p>Stood next to Aziraphale in a body that wasn’t his own, pulled bowstring tight with hypervigilant awareness, he was trying to work out how much any of them really knew about any of it. Death had seen this dance happening between them for just long enough that it was interesting even to the eternal custodian of the earth.</p>
<p>There was a dark twinkle in one eye socket as Crowley struggled for a word and he offered up <span class="small">Iɴᴇғғᴀʙʟᴇ</span> with little other preamble or explanation.</p>
<p>Death looked on as Crowley’s head darted up. “Yeah. Right. Thanks” he nodded before seeming to catch himself, starting to turn his attention back to Aziraphale, too late of course. “Funny, that’s meant to be bad luck.”</p>
<p>As the two were pulled away Death shook his head. There had been an attempt, at least, to let them know ahead of time that their ends were looming uncomfortably close. Of course, he couldn’t change too much, and perhaps his presence had been more distraction than alert given how quickly they’d been captured.</p>
<p>Still, curiously enough their ends did not seem to be looming any closer. It was hard to be sure, given that a near Death experience was hard to quantify with beings that occasionally overlapped him anyway, but he had a good degree of patience for a great many things having worked in what is essentially the returns department for the human race.</p>
<p>The next time he came across Crowley the demon was as sharp as ever and just a little bit more relaxed around the shoulders, even as he eyed Death warily.</p>
<p><span class="small">Bᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss ᴀs ᴜsᴜᴀʟ,</span> he declared with a slight nod at the withering human hanging on to their last thread.</p>
<p>“Yeah, uh… You know. Sorted him out with the old ‘Forever on the phone to the DWP’ schtick. S’always easy enough these days to convince someone of that. Didn’t have much of a clue beforehand, but he’s scared enough now. Thought it was only fair to make the job easier, you know, given everything.”</p>
<p>As Crowle gestured around aimlessly, the general space around Death gave the impression of an eyebrow raising without a single thing changing about him. He let the demon squirm for a second or two before dropping his attention to the man curled up in the bath.</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">Yᴇs, ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʜᴇʟᴘ. Fᴀɴᴄʏ ᴀ ᴄᴜʀʀʏ? I ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀsᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ʙɪᴛ ᴏғ ʀᴜʟᴇs ʟᴀᴡʏᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ Aʀᴍᴀɢᴇᴅᴅᴏɴ.</span>
</p>
<p>The surprise only lasted a second before Crowley gathered himself again, almost as cool and collected as he wished he was. “Yeah sure. Actually a friend of mine recommended a place near here. It’ll really piss him off if I go without him.”</p>
<p>Death could tell from the sharp grin that little would please the demon more than getting under his friend’s skin. It could only mean that the other one had survived his punishment as well. A cause for celebration and mischief apparently. Aʟʀɪɢʜᴛ. I'ʟʟ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴇɴ I'ᴍ ғɪɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ.</p>
<p>He turned to the very bewildered and slightly trembling soul and guided it very carefully to the personal Hell Crowley had helped construct for him. Business as usual certainly wasn’t the end of the world after all.</p>
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